


Thirteen ways Hotch won't leave, and one he might (in no particular order)

by Zeborah



Category: Criminal Minds, The West Wing
Genre: Crossover, F/F, Gen, Hotch's departure, Humor, Implied dubcon, JJ4UnitChief2016, M/M, Meta, Mpreg, Murder Mystery, Stalker!Hotch, The Batman problem, Trans Female Character, UnSub!Hotch, Unsub!Jack, War wounds, aside from growing a beard obviously, but if there's a lawsuit pending maybe they can't this time, but only a tiny one, coinfic, dude she's just not that into you, graveyards, profiling the profilers, short and dark, they've done it before, what was he even doing in Afghanistan?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-15 03:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 8,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8041183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeborah/pseuds/Zeborah
Summary: A vignette a day until season 12 begins... These are a mixture of the happy, the sad, the plausible, the ridiculous, the short, and the very short — basically as many possible ways I could write in short order, with the whimsical thought that one of them might be where the writers are going too.





	1. The Revelation

**Author's Note:**

> Tags/warnings are accurate up to the latest vignette added; I'll add them as I post each vignette, and put notes at the start of the vignette as well. Since each vignette stands alone you can safely skip one if you want/need.

He'll get up one morning, get Jack breakfast, and try and fail to get anything more than a grunted monosyllable from his hunched shoulders. And he'll hear himself saying, "So Cruz has been talking about transferring me to another division."

He'll wince as soon as the words are out, because he's already refused and he tries to shelter Jack from the politics of work. But before he can scour his mind for another potential conversational gambit, Jack will look up in shock. "He can't. You belong in the BAU. You save lives."

"Sure," he'll say, so grateful for those three short sentences he'll ignore all the resolutions he's ever made and will stick to the topic that's working. "But Cruz has been pointing out the team could save lives without me and there's a lot I could do to help another division save even more lives. And of course the best part would be spending more time with you."

And for a flash of a moment Jack will look hopeful — but then he'll scowl and hunch his shoulders again. "Anyway you'd just get depressed again like you always do when you've been on leave too long."

He'll feel like he's been suckerpunched with the sudden realisation that that's why Jack never complains. That's why he just keeps reciting by rote, _You save lives_ : he doesn't want to see his dad talking in monosyllables from hunched shoulders. Making a quick decision and taking a deep breath, he'll admit, "Well, it probably won't be an easy transition, so I'm going to need you to help distract me. Maybe you could tell me what's going on with your friends, or in those comic books."

Jack will peer at him like he's not sure if it's safe to believe him. And Hotch will hold his breath, and finally, warily, Jack will say, "I guess I could do that. I mean... there's this play on Friday. ...But probably you'll still be in the BAU then."

"I don't know," he'll say, but he will know. (A play? When did that—) Whatever it takes, he's going to be free on Friday. "I've got another meeting with Cruz this morning."

And he'll text Cruz, while Jack takes his dishes out more happily than he's done anything in weeks, to set it up. Because he'll know, now, that Jack doesn't need a hero: he needs a father.


	2. The Penny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Characters: Hotch, JJ, Rossi, Reid, Tara Lewis  
> Tags: coinfic]

They'll be gathered in the conference room, but the screen will be dark and the table unencumbered with files. Puzzled, JJ will ask, "Do we have a case?"

"Nope," Hotch will say cheerfully.

Rossi will drawl, "Okay, who is she?"

"Technically," he'll say, "I suppose it's a he." And from his pocket he'll produce a coin and toss it with a flourish to spin on the table.

They blink at it as it slows, wobbles, and rattles to a stop. "It's a penny," Lewis will say, not feeling very enlightened.

"A Lincoln cent," Reid will correct, leaning in to inspect it. "Actually, a wheat cent from 1943, minted in Denver — wait. I need a magnet."

"It won't work," Hotch will say smugly: "it's copper-coated bronze."

Lewis will ask, "Weren't they all back then?"

"No," Reid will answer before Hotch can: "in 1943 the cent was struck in zinc-coated steel due to war-time shortages—"

"Except for a few off-metal strikes when the planchets were changed at the start of the year," Hotch will finish for him. "People have tried to fake it by copper-coating an ordinary 1943 Steel, but those are magnetic; this isn't. Other signs that it's genuine include the long tail of the 3 and the exceptional quality of the strike around the rim."

"Wait," JJ will say, thinking back eleven long years to something said offhand in an old case: "is this that coin you spent your childhood looking for?"

"Actually that was the 1944 Steel Cent," he'll explain, as enthusiastic as Reid at his finest, "which was a similar transitional error. Overall, the 1944 Steel is rarer than the 1943 Copper — but I'd have been looking for a 1943-D Copper if I'd known it existed. The first one was revealed publically in 1996 and recently sold for $1.7 million dollars."

Even Rossi will look visibly impressed at this number, and they'll all look at the humble penny with more respect.

Hotch will pick it up again and muse, "So, when I was a kid I had a really detailed plan for what I'd do with the money if I found one." (It started with taking Sean and two suitcases, catching a bus to Philadelphia, and never looking back.) "But at some point I figured out it wasn't going to just drop into my lap and instead I'd have to buckle down and do things the hard way. So I did, and here I am."

Unit chief of the best of the best, but something in his tone will have them thinking of all the pain and loss along the way.

"And then this turns up in my change at the supermarket, and... you know, screw the hard way. So I've handed in my resignation. It's been a privilege working with you all, and any time you want to catch up, drinks are on me."


	3. The Press Gang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tags: what was he even doing in Afghanistan?, apart from growing a beard obviously]

He'll come into his office one morning and find a military man waiting for him. "General," he'll say. He'll discard _It's good to see you again_ and _What the hell are you doing here?_ for opposite reasons and instead opt for a more neutral, "Good morning."

"Good morning, Agent," the general will say and, no beating around the bush, "I've come to offer you a job."

"I'm flattered," Hotch will say with a tone that belies the words, "but I can't say I'm interested."

"We're still having trouble getting reliable intelligence in Afghanistan."

"That's because your people keep relying on torture."

"Well, when people are under pressure they go with what they know works."

"Maybe, but torture doesn't."

The general will wave this old debate aside for another time. "In any case, the DOJ's already approved loaning you to us for six months."

At that Hotch, already wary, will go very still. He'll say flatly, "I can't go anywhere for six months. I have an eleven-year-old son."

"I know. And honestly we'd rather have you take a permanent position on base here. Review the procedures, train the recruits up in your theories before they get into bad habits and all that. You could make a real difference, and still be home for dinner every night — but I know you'd never voluntarily leave the BAU. So, a six-month stint in Afghanistan and you can come back here and pick up where you left off. I'm sure Jack will be fine with his aunt in the meantime."

Hotch will look at the general in silence for a long moment, as that forced choice between team and family hangs in the air between them. Finally he'll say, "With respect, sir: get the hell out of my office."

"Of course," the general will say easily. He'll have delivered the message he came with, and will have no reason to linger. "Take some time to think about it. I don't need your answer until the end of today."


	4. The Bun in the Oven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Teen-and-up, I guess?  
> Pairings: Hotch/Reid  
> Tags: mpreg]

He'll wake in the morning to find Spencer studying his face. "And I thought I was the early riser in the family," he'll tease.

"Well, _I've_ got work today," Spencer will say archly. Then he'll ask, "How are you feeling?"

"Um, like I'm eight months pregnant with your child, so pretty good actually."

"I meant about leaving the BAU," Spencer will say. Which Aaron will have known, which Spencer will know too. He just won't let Aaron get away with avoiding the question.

"Is it wrong that I already kind of miss it?" He'll feel Spencer reach for his hand between them. "But I am looking forward to taking Jack to school _and_ picking him up, and I wouldn't miss raising this one for the world." With that he'll move their clasped hands to the tight curve of his stomach, and together they'll feel the contented shifting within.

"If you really miss it I could bring some paperwork home for you."

"I can think of something better for you to bring home for me," Aaron will say, easing onto his side with a wicked smirk. After three trips to the bathroom in the night, for once it won't be his bladder that's throbbing: the baby will have its foot elsewhere this time. "Want to try for twins?"

With a light frown Spencer will say, "Humans aren't fertile while they're already pregnant and even if they were it wouldn't really be— Um," he'll say as Hotch's smile widens and he draws their hands further on down: "okay."


	5. An Old Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [And we're back to gen and all-ages  
> Characters: Elle Greenaway  
> Tags: graveyards]

He'll feel someone watching him at the graveyard. He'll instantly be on red alert, because if it's a fan and they recognise him—

But when he turns he'll just as instantly recognise Elle Greenaway. There'll be a few light wrinkles around her eyes and her hair will be dyed to hide the early greying, but then he's hardly one to talk on either account. They'll study each other, and finally she'll break the silence with a sardonic, "Confessing your sins?"

He'll lift his eyebrows, remembering their last conversation in a graveyard as well as she clearly does. "What makes you say that?"

She'll join him by the small gravestone. _George Foyet_ , it'll read simply. _1968 - 2009_. Even serial killers have to be buried somewhere. "I live nearby. Chance," she'll add when he lifts his eyebrows again. "—But I got to know the security guard, showed him your picture, asked him to let me know if you ever stopped by."

"There are easier ways to get in touch," he'll point out.

"Actually I didn't expect you'd be here long enough for me to see you. I was just curious to know. I mean, I saw enough in the news, and I heard things that didn't make the news — enough to guess."

He should just turn and go back to his car, but something will make him prod, "So what did you guess?"

"Foyet was a sociopathic narcissist, driven by a need to dominate and control."

That isn't a guess. It's a published fact, and he'll hold her even gaze. "Yes," he'll say, what he's never said to anyone: "he raped me."

Her expression won't change, but she'll say, "I'm sorry. No-one should go through that."

"Especially not in the one place they have the right to feel safe," he'll say blandly.

She'll look out across the graveyard, over the hundreds of gravestones in their tidy, well-tended rows. Some will have flowers, some plastic windmills turned into rainbows by the breeze. One will have a teddy-bear: it'll be hard to look away from, and she won't. "Did he hurt Haley?"

"He shot her in the neck." But Elle won't react to that, and after a moment he'll say, "No. He threatened to, but he didn't have time."

"Before you got there."

"And killed him," he'll agree.

"But the internal investigation accepted your claim that it was self-defence. Just like they did with me."

"They did."

He'll wait for her to probe further; to draw more parallels, ask more leading questions. But apparently this will be all she needs to satisfy her long-held curiosity. "Tell Reid I say hi," she'll say, and turn away to leave him alone.

He'll ask over his shoulder, before she can quite get out of ear-shot, "Did you hear about Gideon?"

From behind him she'll say, "Yeah. And I heard David Rossi shot the son of a bitch that killed him." She'll pause, then add consideringly, "In self-defence."

He won't answer. He'll stand there for a long time, looking down at the two words, two dates, carved on the small gravestone at his feet. It'll be so silent he'll think she must already have walked away, got in her car, driven home, but if he's honest with himself he'll know she'll still be there. "You know, someone tried to frame me for something recently, and the DOJ thought it was plausible because I let Rossi keep his job for — their words — the same crime I expelled you for ten years ago. Which was even more of a stretch than the rest of their profile, because of course I wasn't in charge of either of those internal investigations. It was OPR who cleared both of you."

"But you did expel me."

"Yes."

"But Rossi's still part of the team. Because you couldn't expel him without being a hypocrite."

Again he won't answer. He'll lift his head and look out over the tops of the gravestones to the row of trees planted in an attempt to disguise the fact that they're in the middle of a city and across the road is a pizzeria and an old tenement building.

Elle will say, "I know I don't have any evidence, and you know I couldn't arrest you if I did...."

"So what am I going to do about it?" he'll finish for her, and this time it'll be Elle who doesn't answer. She won't have to.


	6. The Storage Locker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tags: unsub!Hotch]

He'll be at the storage facility with a team from the DOJ — he'll have been cleared of all charges by now, but there'll still be loose ends to clear up, statements to make, paperwork to file — and the guy holding down the desk at the site office will say, "Did you want the key to your other unit too?"

"No," he'll say quellingly, and silently curse the man's new-found passion for customer service.

"Wait a minute," the lead agent, a sharp-eyed brunette, will say: "what other unit?"

"It's just another unit," he'll shrug. "If you didn't know about it Peter Lewis won't have either, so it's not relevant."

"It's still covered by the warrant. Give us the key," she'll tell the office attendant.

Hotch will know better than to argue, but he'll say, "I hope you don't mind me calling my lawyer."

"Go for gold," she'll say, and they'll file off to the units while Hotch hangs behind several feet away from the office. One of them might look back at him once, but he won't be in anyone's custody: they'll have no reason not to leave him alone.

He won't call his lawyer. He'll call Garcia instead. "This is a long story," he'll tell her, "but I've got a couple of people here who need to get the next flight to South America. What can you do?"

"Um, that depends on whether they've got any bags—"

"No bags."

"Then how does Guatemala in eighty-five minutes sound?"

There'll be a couple of stops on the way to the airport, so... "It sounds perfect."

"Names?"

He'll shake his head and pull from thin air: "Thomas and Owen Gibson. Pre-check them and make sure they're cleared straight through security. If you have any problems—"

"I'll find a way around them," she'll say cheerily.

"You always do," he'll agree. "Oh, and one other thing: do you have the last known of that forger JJ and Lewis interviewed a few weeks back?"

"You know I do, bossman. Texting you the deets... now." A moment later a soft ding will confirm their arrival. "I'm really looking forward to hearing this story."

"It'll probably come as a let-down," he'll say, and hang up. Glancing down the row of storage units — the DOJ team will be well out of sight by now — he'll stroll out to the road as he phones the school. They'll be harder to convince to put Jack in a taxi to an unfamiliar address, family emergency or no, but he'll say patiently, "Look, you know this is my phone number. You know this is my voice. And you can tell Jack I need him to work the case with me and he'll tell you it's me too. But I need him to be at that address in twenty minutes."

And it's not as if phone numbers and even voices can be spoofed, so finally they'll agree. They'll be able to regret it later: for now Hotch will toss his phone in his car, wave down a cab, and start working out how much cash he can draw from his accounts before the APB goes out.


	7. A New Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Warning: Major character death  
> Tags: short and dark, like grim-dark, I mean it]

He'll wake in a cell, head fogged and the smell of sage faintly lingering. His belt and shoelaces will be missing. His shoulders will hurt: not like they usually do after a long night in the office, but like the morning after that long, final struggle with Foyet. He'll become aware slowly of bruises, scratches, blood on his shirt.... He'll realise he's been in a fight, and he won't be able to remember a thing.

At least he won't have to wait long. And it'll be Dave who'll come in, looking like death warmed over. "Aaron," he'll say, and choke to a stop.

He'll be afraid to ask, but he'll have to know. "What happened?"

"Peter Lewis got to you."

And he'll know. He'll smell sage, and he'll fight the nausea, and he'll make himself say, "I hurt— No. I killed someone."

"Aaron..."

"Does Jack know?" It'll seem the worst thing, in that moment, for his son to find out that his father, his hero, has been turned into a murderer....

"Aaron... I'm so, so sorry. Jack's dead."

"No," he'll say in frustration, "my _son_ Jack. Is he with Jessica? Dave, don't just stand there. I can handle it: just tell me _what's going on_."


	8. The Case of the Salty Peas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Technically I still need to warn for major character death but really this one's pure humour.  
> Characters: a bunch of OCs, Mateo Cruz  
> Tags: murder mystery, profiling the profiler, humour, this got away on me]

"Come on, people," the captain of the precinct will tell her gathered detectives. "It's basically a locked-room murder mystery: how hard can it be?"

"Maybe we should call Miss Marple," a smart-aleck will mutter, and will get a scathing look for his trouble.

The rest of the room will be awkwardly silent, except for someone rhythmically clicking a ballpoint pen. With a sigh the captain will say, "Okay. Let's review. What do we know?"

A particularly eager detective will recap: "Hotchner and his team finish up a case in Fresno involving a serial killer who poisoned his victims with a substance which, in low doses, is virtually undetectable and mimics the effects of a stroke up to two days after the dosing."

Another detective, holding a stack of folders, will point out, "But they'd just landed back at Quantico when Hotchner had a massive seizure on the tarmac, and the ME estimates he'd been poisoned with ten times the minimum fatal dose."

A detective lounging against the wall with a coffee will drawl, "Someone must have really wanted him dead."

The captain will say, "And that puts his dosing squarely during the time he and his team were in the air. They all had access to the poison in Fresno, they all had access to his coffee mug in the plane. One of them did it, and that means one of them must have seen something."

"But they're not going to rat out one of their own team members," the detective clicking the ballpoint pen will say.

"Um," the detective sitting next to him will disagree, "a team member who just murdered their own unit chief."

"Yeah, but come on. If I killed the captain you wouldn't rat me out."

"Hell yeah I would, if it'd get you to stop clicking that pen."

Rubbing her brow the captain will say, "Tell them if we find out now who did it we can deal with it quietly, but if we don't get a viable suspect then that leaves a cloud hanging over all of them. If they want there to _be_ a team this time tomorrow they need to start cooperating." She'll scan the room for nods of comprehension and agreement, then she'll conclude, "Everyone take an agent and meet back here in twenty."

Six of them will file out. A seventh will linger and ask, "Should I take the pilot?"

"What pilot?"

"Er. Well, planes have pilots, don't they?"

"Did anyone see a pilot on _this_ plane?"

"Er. No, but..."

"Did any of the agents _mention_ a pilot?"

"No, but in Agatha Christie novels it's always the butler that did it, so I just... thought..."

"Just go and watch the desk," the captain will say, and will turn away in search of aspirin.

*

"You have got to be kidding me," she'll say when her detectives are gathered again. "They _all_ confessed?"

They'll look at each other, shift awkwardly, and look back at her. The detective with the folders will say, "Obviously they're all covering for each other."

"Obviously," she'll say, and sigh. "Okay, let's hear their stories."

Pen-clicker (who will in fact still be clicking his pen) will start: "Apparently Rossi and Hotchner were having a secret fling. Only then Rossi finds out Hotchner's cheating on him with the tech analyst. Italian blood runs hot, he gets a sample of the poison and back at the jet he smears a drop inside the coffee mug on his way to the head. Flushes the evidence at forty thousand feet."

Pen-clicker's nemesis will grab the pen off him and say, "Garcia — that's the tech analyst — tells the same story. Except the other way around: she's the one who got jealous, put a drop of poison in the mug, and flushed the evidence."

The eager detective, a little piqued at being pipped at the post by those two, will leap in here with, "And Jareau says _she_ put the drop of poison in because she was jealous—"

"Wow, this guy got around," smart-aleck will say.

"Not like that. Jealous of all the sympathy he gets when she's got at least as much emotional baggage and is just as heroically stoic about it all. You know: he's got a scapegrace younger brother, she had an older sister commit suicide. His ex-wife is murdered, he kills the murderer and later hallucinates about him; her unborn child dies when she's attacked, she kills the attacker and later hallucinates about him. He struggles to balance work and looking after his son, so does she — you get the picture."

"Poor guy," pen-clicker will say.

"Yeah," his nemesis will agree, "she really needs to get over herself."

While Detective Eager is trying to word a response to that, smart-aleck will say, "Alvez just joined the team so he didn't have anything personal against Hotchner, but he noticed there weren't exactly any promotions going on. Hotchner was just sitting there as unit chief for upwards of thirteen years. Alvez has ambitions, so — a drop of poison gets the obvious obstacle out of the way."

The only detective still blithely drinking coffee at this point will drawl, "And Lewis says she's listened to so many serial killers talking about how they carried out their murders that she got curious what it'd feel like to do it herself."

"How _does_ it feel?" pen-clicker's nemesis will ask with a dark look to the detective next to her, who will by now have produced another ballpoint pen from a pocket and be clicking it in a new and even more irritating rhythm.

"She says putting the drop of poison in his mug was a bit of an anticlimax. But it picked up when he started frothing at the mouth on the tarmac."

The detective with the stack of papers will say, "Okay, but those are all completely unbelievable motives for respected FBI agents to murder their own unit chief. Try this one: Reid says he and Hotchner had a long-standing feud over the definition of a classic narcissist—"

"Seriously?" the captain will ask. "He wants us to believe _that's_ his motive?"

"Well, recently it's been playing out in criminology journals. Apparently it culminated when Reid published a masterpiece of an article earlier this year and Hotchner recently published a rebuttal in the letters section saying, and I quote, 'While Dr Reid makes some interesting observations, it is not clear that he has entirely substantiated the core of his argument.'"

The rest of the detectives will wait for the part that might make someone murder someone.

"Trust me: to an academic, those are fighting words. Besides, Reid's the only one who got the dosage right. All your guys said they put a drop in. Reid says he put in zero point four millilitres, which happens to coincide exactly with the ME's report."

Smart-aleck will say, "Point four millilitres just sounds like another way of saying 'a drop' to me."

"Actually using a standard dropper it's eight drops," stack-of-papers will counter. "Reid did it, the others are covering for him, case closed."

On being looked to as arbiter their captain will agree, "That does sound pretty convincing."

"Except," coffee-drinker will drawl, "why would someone as smart as Dr Reid's meant to be use eight drops when the whole point of this poison is that using a single drop will make it look like a natural death? Seems to me Boy Genius is covering too: he just figured out how much was used based on the time Hotchner started bleeding from the eyes."

"That's... also pretty convincing," their captain will say reluctantly. "But then, why would _any_ of them use that much?"

Detective Eager will suggest promptly, "Maybe the real killer just underestimated how much they put in. Jareau did say she was surprised how quickly it took effect."

"So did Rossi," pen-clicker will remember, and the others will nod that this is in fact a common theme.

"Or," their captain will say slowly. "No.... But it's the only explanation. Like that story of the salty peas." The detectives will all look at her blankly. "Anne of Green Gables?" Apparently none of them will have read it. "Anne always forgets to put in the salt when she's cooking peas. So when she's cooking a special dinner, Marilla adds a spoonful for her. Except so does Matthew. And so does Diana. And being a special occasion Anne makes sure to remember the salt herself, and by the time she serves the peas they're inedible."

There'll be a stunned silence.

"None of them are covering for the others," she'll conclude — "except maybe Reid. They all did it."

With a quick calculation, stack-of-papers will say, "But if everyone put a drop in, that's still only point three millilitres."

"Maybe they used big drops," smart-aleck will say.

Stack-of-papers and smart-aleck will be arguing the notion of a standard drop when another man strides into the room, wearing a suit and bearing a file emblazoned with the FBI seal. "Captain," he'll greet her. "Mateo Cruz: I'm chief of the section the BAU works in. I've come to request the release of my agents due to new evidence that Agent Hotchner's death was in fact a suicide."

"Unfortunately your agents have all already confessed to his murder," she'll say.

"That's clearly a misunderstanding," he'll dismiss this. "Agent Hotchner had been having some, er, personal troubles recently which, combined with guilt over unfairly sabotaging his agent's academic standing and awareness that his continued presence in the team was standing in the way of well-deserved recognition and career development opportunities for the rest of his agents, clearly provides ample motive to kill himself. Obviously he wouldn't want to leave any evidence that would jeopardise an insurance payout for his family, but he did spend the flight back from this case tidying up a large number of loose ends, including sending me a memo on succession planning for his team."

"That's... suspicious," the police captain will agree, "but without any actual evidence—"

"In his agents' initial statements they all mentioned that when he took the first mouthful of his coffee he grimaced. When Rossi asked about it, he passed it off saying it was hotter than he expected." Cruz will pause for effect. "Obviously Hotchner is perfectly familiar with the temperature of the coffee on the jet. He was actually reacting to the bitterness of the poison — but he kept drinking the coffee."

"Point three five millilitres," stack-of-papers will murmur.

Smart-aleck will repeat, "Big drops."

"Look," their captain will say, "with six murder confessions, why dredge up this suicide theory and screw over the guy's son?"

Cruz will counter, "With evidence of suicide, is the prosecutor really going to want to argue that six agents murdered their unit chief?"

There'll be a short stand-off, then the captain will gesture to her office and Cruz will nod. Together they'll go inside, close the door, and draw the blinds.

The detectives will wait incuriously. Coffee-drinker will drink his coffee. Pen-clicker will click his pen, until his nemesis grabs it and snaps it in half.

After a couple of minutes their captain and Cruz will re-emerge. "Okay, people, Section Chief Cruz and I have reviewed the case and we've determined that the cause of death was in fact accidental overdose."

"Accidental?" pen-clicker's nemesis will repeat in confusion.

"Accidental," Cruz will confirm.

Stack-of-papers will say, "But—"

"Ac.Cid.En.Tal," their captain will grit. "Someone let the agents go and thank them for their time. Everyone else, get back to the rest of your cases."

"I appreciate your help on this," Cruz will say to her, shaking her hand as the detectives file out. "And I'll, ah, make sure the DOJ gets back to you on that other matter."

She'll just be seeing him out the door when the detective she consigned to the desk earlier turns up again. "Captain? I've got a walk-in saying she's the pilot of the BAU's plane and she put a drop of poison in Hotchner's coffee mug because she wanted someone to notice she existed."

"A pilot?" Cruz will say sceptically. "I'm pretty sure I'd have noticed if we had a pilot on our payroll."

"Just send her away," the captain will say in exasperation. "It's been a long enough day without dealing with glory hounds."


	9. The Arson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Back to no archive warnings properly now.  
> Tags: unsub!Jack]

He'll be with Jack and the school principal when his phone rings. "I'm sorry," he'll say helplessly, "I really should take this."

"Of course," the principal will say.

He won't miss the look of resentment that flashes across Jack's face, but he'll already have sent it to voicemail twice. "I'll be right back," he'll promise, and will answer it as he slips out the door.

On the other end Dave will say, "I was getting worried. We've got a case."

"You'll have to go without me," he'll say.

"Is everything okay?"

He'll glance around the lobby, but the secretary will be on her own phone call so he'll only need to move to the other end of the room and lower his voice a little. "There's been a series of small fires at Jack's school, and his teacher saw some pretty disturbing pictures he's been drawing. It... looks like he remembers more about Haley's death than I thought."

"They think he lit the fires?"

"Their evidence is pretty conclusive, if I do say so myself."

He'll be keeping his voice pretty neutral too, but even if Dave can't hear the worry he'll still have to know it's there. "Aaron, he's only eleven. You know it's probably just a call for attention."

"Well, he's got it."

(And he will know. He'll know the statistics aren't transitive: just because a lot of serial killers have a history of lighting fires, doesn't mean that a lot of kids who light fires grow up to be serial killers. He'll know what _he_ got up to as a teenager, and he turned out okay. Law-abiding, anyway, if not perfectly well-adjusted. It'll just be that... he's known that there's been something wrong recently, and he's been hoping it would resolve itself, and now it'll be clear that that won't be good enough anymore.)

"Well, don't worry about us. We'll deal with this, you take all the time you need."

"Dave," he'll say, and he'll shut his eyes to get the rest out. "I need to talk to Cruz about the details, but I'm going to be leaving the team."

There'll be a short pause. "Are you sure it's a good idea to reward bad behaviour?"

"Oh, he's not getting rewarded. But I need to keep an eye on this and I can't have my attention divided."

"Yeah," Dave will admit, "I get that."

"Can you tell the team? I'll try to get in to wrap up loose ends, I just don't know when that'll be."

"Of course," Dave will say. "You take care."

"You too." And he'll turn his phone off before he puts it in his pocket, and, squaring his shoulders, he'll go back into the principal's office to find out where the school will want to take this.


	10. Someone New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Pairings: Hotch/Madame Bouvier  
> Characters: Garcia  
> Tags: trans female character]

Garcia will venture into Hotch's office while she's boxing up her markmanship trophies. She'll watch miserably for a moment, then say, "I feel really terrible about all this."

"Garcia, you of all people have nothing to feel terrible about. In fact, you're the one who introduced me to Madame Bouvier, and we'll both always be grateful to you for that."

"Aw." She won't be able to resist smiling at that. "Not that I _knew_ you were going to fall madly in love at first sight."

"Well, it wasn't quite first sight," Hotch will say self-deprecatingly. "It was more... she flirted with me and I panicked. It wasn't until I came back to return the costume and apologise that we got to talking and realised we had a lot in common." Mostly to do with their terrible fathers, but she won't feel the need to mention that part. "Anyway, I could have just carried on the way I was. I knew something like this would happen if I told the Bureau, and I decided it was worth it anyway."

"That doesn't make what they're doing to you right. You love who you love and you are who you are and they've got no right to judge you for that."

With a sardonic quirk of her eyebrows Hotch will point out, "No-one's _said_ that's what any of this is about. They're just assigning me to another post and I'm refusing to go."

"But everyone knows what's really happening," Garcia will say, and Hotch will shrug and turn for another double handful of trophies. "I just... can't help feeling like I should be resigning too."

"No," Hotch will say firmly, and set the trophies on her desk. She'll be wearing light makeup these days, and her hair will be a little longer; her suit will be cut subtly differently, a blouse will replace shirt and tie, and stockings instead of socks will peek from her low-heeled shoes. But really she hasn't changed that much, and the hard look she fixes Garcia with won't have changed at all. "The team needs you, and no organisation was ever reformed because good people walked away. This place could use more colour, not less."

Uncertainly — but far from unwillingly — Garcia will say, "You want me to subvert the Bureau from within?"

The corners of Hotch's lips will curve in her secret smile, the one she keeps for special occasions. "You'll note that I've specifically said nothing about glitterbombing the Director's office."

"Of course not, ma'am," she'll agree promptly. "Or about turning the mouse cursor on every computer in the building into a teeny rainbow, or setting all the browser homepages to— What?" She'll stop in confusion. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," Hotch will say, and will glance down and blink, just once, as if there's something in her eye. "But, you know, I'm not really your boss anymore, so you could just call me Alice." She'll meet Garcia's eyes again and add diffidently, "If you want."

"Oh," Garcia will say, her voice breaking a little. "Alice, I— I'd really like to hug you right now." And Hotch will nod mute permission, and she'll come around the desk to wrap her in a tight embrace while she blinks her own tears away.


	11. The Doctor's Appointment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Characters: that doctor he tried to con last time  
> Tags: war wounds]

It'll be his ear. Or the old internal injuries: an unsteady heart. The doctor will sit soberly across from him and say, "I'm sorry, but you won't be able to return to the field."

He'll sit there stoically, his heart pounding or his ears ringing. He'll ask, "For how long?"

Her eyes will soften, but she won't budge. "The damage is permanent, I'm afraid."

"I understand that," he'll persist, "but if I follow your course of treatment—"

"Then hopefully it won't get worse," she cuts in. "But you still won't be fit for the field. I'm signing you off for desk duty only."

She'll say more, but the tinnitus or the thrum of his too-quick pulse will drown it out. His chest will feel tight and he'll ask, "Can I drive?"

She'll stop in confusion, in the middle of something about career options or counselling. "I'm sorry?"

"Can I drive home now?"

"Yes," she'll say, and pause, and nod. "Of course. I'll send the rest of the paperwork through today and schedule a followup for next week."

And he'll leave the clinic with his head up, and get in his car, and sit there for a long time trying to remember how to breathe.


	12. The Grand Gesture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Pairings: Hotch/Beth  
> Characters: Beth Clemmons  
> Tags: stalker!Hotch, dude she's just not into you, implied dubcon]

He'll track Beth down on a street in New Delhi. She'll shriek when she sees him, and then smile brightly. "Aaron, oh my god! How— Why—"

"I just got to thinking about how good we were together and how I just let that slip away—"

"You didn't," she'll protest. "We just couldn't, with our jobs."

"That's what I told myself, but the fact is it wasn't about _our_ jobs, it was about mine. It always has been, and I just finally realised that I couldn't let it be anymore, because love... is the most important thing. So I quit."

"Oh my god," she'll say again, so overwhelmed it'll look almost like dismay. "That's— that's the most... romantic..." But when he reaches for her she'll pull away. "Sorry. Um. This is just a... pretty conservative country, so..."

"Of course," he'll agree quickly. They'll stand awkwardly looking at each other, then he'll rally. "So, New Delhi! What happened to Hong Kong?"

"Hong Kong?" she'll echo. "Oh — Hong Kong! I quit. I mean, I got the job here, so..."

"It's just when I asked at the museum there no-one knew who you were. I thought I must have got the name wrong, but none of the museums knew you."

"Really? Wow. Well, I mean the turnover there is terrible— I mean conditions are... are terrible, that's why I left... But enough about me," she'll say brightly: "tell me about how you found me."

He'll laugh and say, "Well, it wasn't easy. When I struck out in Hong Kong and couldn't get anything off your old bank cards I called around your family and friends. Of course none of them would tell me anything either."

He'll pause, not really accusingly, but she'll feel uncomfortably compelled to explain, "There was this guy— Not exactly a stalker— It was complicated. I just thought I'd make it hard for him to find me."

"I wish you'd have told me," he'll say sincerely. She'll grimace and he'll say quickly, "But you did a good job of covering your tracks. In the end I had to get Garcia on the case. She cross-referenced the email addresses your friends and family were in regular contact with and then I, um, may have abused the PATRIOT Act a little bit to get an IP address from your email provider. Then Garcia traced that through a string of proxies to this cybercafe, so I've just been waiting here for you to come back. So unless your stalker's got someone like Garcia on call I'd say you're pretty safe."

"Great," she'll say faintly. "That's— that's great. I mean, I don't think he'd really hurt me. Probably. He's just so intense, and so persistent. I thought moving twice would get the message across but he keeps turning up _years_ later and— Maybe I need to be firmer."

Quickly he'll say, "No. If he's so deluded he can't pick on really obvious hints like that then there's no reasoning with him. The safest thing to do is avoid a confrontation and break off all contact."

She'll nod distractedly, and when he asks if she's okay (she'll be looking pale beneath her scarf: could it be sunstroke?) she'll smile again. "I'm fine. I'm just... It's the worst timing. I'm only in New Delhi another week. Another few days, really. I got another job."

Undaunted he'll say, "Lucky I caught you today, then. I'll come with you and we can househunt together, then Jack can fly out and join us. He's really missed you, and it's the perfect age for him to benefit from school in another country."

"But there aren't any schools," she'll blurt.

He'll blink. "Where on earth aren't there any schools?"

"Um. Antarctica?"

"You... got a museum job in Antarctica?"

"Restoring Shackleton's hut. And researching for an exhibition in, um, Africa. The whole continent. It's a touring exhibition, visiting every country there. It'd just be impossible for a kid Jack's age. I'm so sorry, I know he's a deal-breaker for you."

And it'll be a blow. After everything he's done and everything he's given up, he'll have been hoping for more, not just... But he'll understand how important her job is to her, and while they go on into the cybercafe — she to write to her family, he to his — he'll realise he can still make this work.

McMurdo Station has a reputation for trouble among its contract staff on the winter stretch: everything from drunk-and-disorderly to assault and attempted murder. He can offer his services, to winter over, keep an eye on things, and most importantly devise interviews and criteria to help them select better candidates for future years. It'll be hard to be apart from Jack for six months, but Jack's almost closer to Jessica these days than he is to his own father, and anyway it's important to show him what love is. Haley would approve.

Heart bursting with excitement, he'll nearly turn to Beth to tell her of his plan, but then he'll check himself. Not until he's certain. Too often in the past he's talked big, and then let the slightest hurdle daunt him. This time he'll just do it: go to Antarctica, and find her again, and see the delight on her face when she realises that this time nothing can keep them apart. It'll be the greatest surprise of her life.


	13. The Elevator Pitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Fandoms: The West Wing  
> Characters: Josh Lyman  
> Tags: crossover, but only a tiny one, the Batman problem]

He'll have just pressed the button for level 6 when a man will squeeze into the elevator after him. "Agent Hotchner," the man will say, offering a hand to shake and an irrepressible grin. "Josh Lyman. I'd like you to run for president."

Hotch won't be able to help lifting his eyebrows, but he'll shake Lyman's hand politely enough: he'll recognise President Santos's long-serving chief of staff. "I'm afraid my calendar for 2020's looking a little full," he'll demur.

"Actually I'm talking 2016."

Hotch's eyebrows will lift even higher. "I'm pretty sure both the major parties already have candidates for this election," he'll point out. He'll also be pretty sure the stress of the job has got to Lyman, but he'll know better than to say that aloud.

"Yeah, but have you looked at them?" Lyman will say. And he'll have a point, at that. "Agent Hotchner, you moved from the prosecutor's office to the FBI because you wanted to stop criminals before they hurt people, not put them away after."

"Have you been talking to JJ?"

"The Attorney-General." Hotch's old boss will have risen in the ranks over the years. "Put it this way: what's the number one predictor of a city's violent crime rates?"

"Historic environmental lead levels," he'll answer at once. "It affects children in the developmental stages; twenty years later crime rates rise. Twenty years after it was phased out of petrol, crime rates fell again."

"But it's still in the water pipes because no-one's cared enough to invest in America's decaying infrastructure. So why are you wasting time catching criminals one at a time when you could be the man who signs an executive order that prevents a whole generation of them being born?"

The elevator will stop with a ding while Hotch is working on an answer. The doors will open and he'll step out before realising that Lyman isn't following. When he turns around he'll see him still waiting expectantly inside.

"Well, you've got my attention," Hotch will admit. "My office is just through—"

"No time. We can talk in the car."

"But..." In his bewilderment at the speed the conversation's moving at, his hand will still be pointing back towards the doors to the bullpen. "My team..."

"Ehh, they'll be fine. And we'll send a box for your things later. Come on: people to meet, lives to save."

And, with one last glance behind him, Hotch will step back into the elevator with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear when I planned out which piece to post which day I didn't know that big debate thing was going to be this night. :-) For the record, I don't actually think the one candidate is as bad as the other. Make sure you're registered to vote. Like, _really_ make sure even if you think you are, I hear there are shenanigans going on....


	14. The Regrettable Disagreement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Characters: Luke Alvez, Emily Prentiss  
> Tags: meta, they've done it before, but if there's a lawsuit pending they probably can't this time, JJ for Unit Chief 2016]

"Has the team ever had this much turnover before?" Lewis will ask as they filter into the conference room.

"We almost did once," Reid will say, "but then Hotch brought Prentiss back just in time to solve the case."

"I don't think he's coming back this time," Rossi will say. "The Bureau's decision is final."

"I heard he's hiring a lawyer," Alvez will venture.

"He could have a case," Reid will say. "I mean, firing him seems like overkill. He kicks like a nine-year-old girl."

Rossi will say, "Unfortunately HR doesn't see it like that. Especially since it's not the first time he's pushed a section chief too far."

"But he's been protecting us," Garcia will point out plaintively. "And who's going to do that now?" When Rossi raises his eyebrows drily she'll say, "You know what I mean. I know the show's got to go on, but Hotch was the ringmaster who kept this show on the road, and with him gone... how does it not just fall apart?" 

A silence will descend on the room — and it will sit there even more awkwardly when JJ strides in crisply in a suit and heels. She'll take her place in front of the large screen, a determined expression on her face. "I want to say something before we begin." The only sign they'll have that she might be at all nervous is that she'll be wearing her sister's necklace, and that could mean any number of things. "Hotch hired me nearly thirteen years ago because he recognised that this job isn't just about catching killers: it's also about how we present ourselves to other teams and agencies and to the outside world. Partly that's because we need their cooperation, but it's also because people watch us and decide they want to join the FBI." Her voice will take on a passionate tone, almost fierce: "We're their heroes, so when we make mistakes we _can't_ get away with it just because what we do here is important."

"That's a false dichotomy," Reid will object: "it doesn't mean they have to fire him."

Sympathetically she'll say, "Spence, I'm going to miss him too. Hotch did everything for this team. I mean, he literally brought us out of the Dark Ages and gave us wings." That reference to the old bunker and to the jet will dredge a nostalgic smile from the glummest of them. "And I'll never forget how he fought for me. When they won, and transferred me, he took on half of my job on top of his, and maybe the stress... didn't help. Anyway, I know I'm not half the profiler he was even thirteen years ago—"

"Hey," Rossi will put in, "don't sell yourself short."

She'll smile gratefully but shake her head. "But what Hotch taught us was it doesn't matter how good any one of us is. What matters is the team. So I'm going to focus on what I do best, which is communicating to make sure this team gets everything it needs to get the job done, and to make sure everyone sees us doing it the way it _should_ be done."

The silence will feel different this time. Reid may not be happier, but he'll be nodding, and Rossi will give her a look of approval.

Wryly she'll add, "I'll take questions now."

Lewis will ask practically, "Are you going to look for someone to fill the empty position?"

"Actually...." Her eyes will flick to the door and they'll all turn to see Prentiss shyly standing there.

Warmly Rossi will say, "You just couldn't stay away, could you?"

"Emily!" Garcia will shriek, and run for a hug into her laughing arms. "This is amazing," she'll babble then, drawing back. "This is more than amazing. I mean, it's amazing just to have you back, but look at us." She'll point at them all around the room: "Look at us girls outnumbering the guys: how often does that happen? I'll tell you how often: never."

"We'll have to show them how it's done, then," Prentiss will say — "no offense, guys."

"None taken," Reid will say on their behalf, and then he'll smirk: "Actually, statistically speaking I think we've had the most interesting cases when you've been part of the team so, even though correlation isn't causation, it'll be good to have you back."

"Speaking of cases," JJ will prompt, and swiftly they'll turn back to business as usual.


End file.
